by Rebecca Rode
The Internet was spotty, but my social account pulled up on the third try. I had six notifications. I scrolled through them and blinked. Someone had tagged me in a photo. I didn’t recognize the name. I clicked on it, trying to remember the last time I’d had a photo taken.
It was from two years ago. A younger Corie stood on the beach, my deep-purple swimsuit covered with a baby-pink tank dress. Next to me stood Rhett. A few friends posed behind us, all couples that had split up since then. The tagger had probably been one of them.
I remembered that day well. As the sun was beginning to set, Rhett had handed his phone to a stranger and asked for a photo of our group. Just as the man’s finger neared the button, a gust of wind had whipped my short hair into my face. I’d yelped in surprise, throwing my hands up to sweep my hair away as the photo was taken. The brilliant diamond ring on my hand flashed in the evening sun.
But what caught my attention now was Rhett. The photographer had perfectly captured Rhett’s best features—his strong profile, his relaxed and amused expression, now turned toward me, frozen forever in the beginning of a laugh.
I clicked the photo closed, the hurt I’d felt earlier fanning into a raging inferno.
The picture couldn’t tell what had happened only two weeks later. Rhett had left me with an engagement ring and a string of empty promises.
I’d sold the ring, but the promises were worthless.
I slammed my laptop closed, wishing I hadn’t brought it in the first place. I’d intended to complete a practice Q&A in preparation for my interview with Susan Kerrington in my free time this week. They hadn’t given me any questions in advance, but I wanted to be prepared.
Somehow, though, the interview had lost a bit of its color. Sofia’s insistence that I join her here was just unfair. We’d arrived only hours before, and already the entire group had seen me humiliated by the one man I actually knew.
Perhaps I could leave tomorrow. Surely Sofia would understand. At least I’d made an effort to come. She knew I wasn’t the spontaneous type, so that had to count for something.
My phone buzzed. I paused a second before picking it up. A text from Sofia. How had she managed to get reception up here? My phone only had one bar. I opened the message.
This is Micah. Sofia let me use her phone. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have picked on you like that in front of everyone. Will you come back down?
I groaned. This sounded just like something Sofia would initiate. At least she hadn’t outright given him my number. I wrote:
I’m not throwing a tantrum. I really am tired. It’s been a long day. Have a nice evening and thanks for the invite.
I hit send. There. Short, noncommittal, and a much safer subject. His reply came back almost immediately.
We’re going to play games in the lobby. Please come.
Sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow.
I sent the message, hoping it wasn’t true. I wouldn’t see him again if I could help it. I’d be packed and gone by breakfast. I’d give Sofia my first impressions of the guys and wish her luck, and she could bask in their attentions without interference from me. The last thing she needed was an antisocial friend to hold her back.
Micah never replied.
3
“WASN’T IT NICE OF HIM to apologize?” Sofia called from the bedroom the next morning as I stood at the vanity. “I thought it was.”
“He felt guilty,” I said, running the straightener through a lock of hair for the third time. This mountain hair didn’t agree with me—it hung flat, heavy, and was very, very frizzy.
Sofia came around the corner and leaned against the bathroom doorframe. “I don’t know why you do that. Your hair is so pretty with its natural curls.”
“I don’t like it poofy.” Rhett loved curly hair, which was exactly why I’d avoided it for two years. I set down the device with a sigh, then gathered my hair. A braid would have to do.
“It’s not like anyone will see it while you’re skiing anyway. You’ll just pull it back and wear a hat. You did bring one, right?”
I winced. I hadn’t had a chance to tell Sofia I was leaving. “Actually—”
“Don’t worry about it. I have one you can borrow. Here.” Sofia disappeared for a moment, then pranced in and shoved a thick hat onto my head. “It suits you. So what did you think of the guys? Dare I ask your professional opinion? I wanted to talk to you about them last night, but you were asleep when I came in. Snoring, actually. I didn’t realize you snored. When did that start?”
I blinked at the barrage of questions. “Um, it must be the altitude. Sofia, I’m really sorry, but—”
She smirked. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I just covered my head with a pillow. So, the guys? I mean, I know what you think of Micah, but it’s worth getting to know him a little before we take him off the list, don’t you think?”
“We are not making any kind of list. You’re the one who gets to decide who to date, Sofia. You don’t really need me here. Besides, you know these guys better than I’ll be able to in just three days.”
“I wish that were true. You see things in people nobody else notices. You’re, like, the fortune-teller of relationships.” Sofia cocked her head and stuck out her lower lip. “Which reminds me—you’re not going to like this, but I need you to try snowboarding today.”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t snowboard.”
“Evan offered free boarding lessons to anyone interested. There are a few others coming so we won’t be alone with him, but I thought this would be a great time to check him out, you know? And if you pick up on boarding a little slower than I do . . .”
“You want me to do horribly so you look good? Really?”
Sofia grinned. “Hey, you owe me after ditching me last night. I had to tell everyone you had a migraine.”
I began coiling the cord on my straightener. It was still hot to the touch, but the pain in my fingers fit my mood. “You know a guilt trip isn’t going to work.”
“Worth a try.” Sofia put her hands on my shoulders and looked at me solemnly. “Then let me say this one last thing. I know you want to leave, but I’m not letting you. If you went home today, you’d spend the week psyching yourself out about your interview and swearing off men until you became an emotional wreck. This is the first vacation you’ve had in two years. Enjoy it.”
An uneasy feeling crawled along my skin. First Micah, and now Sofia. Did everyone think of me as a man-hater? “I’m glad you had fun last night, but it wasn’t all that enjoyable for me.”
“He was an idiot, true. And I shouldn’t have sat there and listened. But hey, he did apologize.”
I shoved away and headed for the bedroom, where my open suitcase awaited. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“Why? It’s not like anyone can force a ring on your finger against your will. You’re on vacation, you’re chatting it up with men you’ll never see again, and you’re resting before your big interview. That’s all. Okay?”
“Right. Thanks to Micah, they think I’m some crazy cat lady with a notepad, staring people down and scribbling down numbers.”
Sofia wasn’t fooled by my attempt at humor. She placed herself between me and my suitcase. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. If Rhett didn’t break you, then spending time in the mountains with strangers won’t either. Give me three days and we’ll conquer this fear of yours. Please.”
I stared at my friend. I’d kept the broken parts of me close to my heart, hidden where I thought nobody could see. But Sofia had just exposed them like a doctor holding an X-ray. I folded my arms across my chest, swallowing hard, feeling emotions I thought I’d locked away.
Was Sofia right? Was I scared of men?
No. I just didn’t believe in the whole “finding The One” thing. Learning from my mistakes wasn’t a sign of being broken but cautious.
I took a step back to look in the mirror hanging over the generic desk. Sofia’s hat didn’t look half bad on me. It actually made my br
aid look decent.
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to stay another day or two,” I said slowly. “Assuming I can steer clear of Micah.”
“That’s my girl.” She paused, her smile rueful. “I should probably mention Micah is a skier, so you’ll have the best chance of avoiding him if you come snowboarding with us.”
I groaned. “Fine, but then we’re even. No more favors.”
“Deal.” Sofia tossed a scarf around her neck and posed in front of the mirror. She’d lined her eyes with silver to match her scarf, and it gave her an otherworldly look. I’d never understood her obsession with makeup. “Now, come down to the buffet with me. I may like all three guys, but I’m not about to let them eat all the bacon before I get a piece.”
***
I didn’t even have to pretend I couldn’t snowboard. My first attempts were so dismal that even Sofia looked sorry for me.
After what had to be my sixtieth fall, I sat on my frozen butt ignoring my furiously hot blush as Sofia and Evan paused for me yet again. The others had picked it up quickly and were now sailing down the mountain.
I nearly waved Sofia on and collapsed into the snow, but I knew I’d never get back up again. My thighs and calves ached already, and it had only been an hour.
I heaved myself up, then swung the board forward again, aiming to the side of the slope where Sofia and Evan stood. This time I would do it.
My board slid forward, picking up speed. I tried to turn—
And face-planted in the snow.
“Wow,” Evan said above me. “I’ve never seen someone fall forward before.”
I pushed myself up on all fours. I could practically hear the hiss of my hot cheeks melting the snow on my skin.
Sofia choked back what was probably a laugh and leaned over. “Are you okay?”
“I. Don’t. Snowboard,” I hissed through gritted teeth.
She recoiled. “You know what? I’m starting to believe you.”
I struggled to twist my legs around, then let myself fall onto my back in the snow again. If it weren’t for my snow pants, I’d be wet through. “I’m going to take this thing off and walk down.”
“I don’t think you realize how long that walk is,” Evan said. “We’re still pretty close to the top.”
I turned to see that he was right. We could still see the top of the ski lift. It had taken us an hour to go two hundred yards.
This had to be the most humiliating day of my life.
“You guys go ahead,” I said, swallowing back the lump in my throat. “Don’t let me hold you back. I’ll find another way down.”
“I don’t think—” Sofia began, but then a figure zipping down the ski run slowed and pulled over to the side. Powder slapped my face as he stopped next to me. He wore an oversized gray hat and a sleek black coat that emphasized his powerful build.
Crap.
Micah removed his sunglasses and grinned down at me. “Well, who do we have here?”
“A good sport,” Sofia said. “Snowboarding isn’t her thing, but she came anyway.”
“I told you guys to go ahead,” I snapped. “I’ll see you at the bottom.”
“I’ll stay with her,” Micah said. “We’ll get down there eventually. Go have fun.”
“You sure?” she asked, staring at me with an apologetic look. “I don’t know.”
“Go,” I said.
Evan needed no convincing. He took off, arms only slightly extended, somehow managing to make it look easy.
“Fine,” Sofia said, “but be nice.” Then she turned to follow. She slid forward slowly, but at least she was on her feet—which was more than I could say for myself. She gave me one last glance, then winked and disappeared down the hill.
I wasn’t sure what to think of her comment. Was it meant for me or Micah? “I don’t need any help, by the way. I’m just going to walk down.” I began fiddling with the right boot latch.
I expected Micah to grin his self-satisfied smile and start the teasing, but there was no glint of last night’s humor. Instead, he looked concerned. “The snow is six feet deep up here. Not the best for walking. Can you get back to the lift? Maybe the operator will let you take it down.”
Duh. The lift. Why hadn’t I thought of that?
I tore one boot out of the board and began limping up the mountain, dragging the hated board as I’d seen others do. Step-slide. Step-slide. “Yeah, maybe I’ll do that.”
“I’ll join you.” He fell in step beside me, inching his way up the mountain sideways with his skis. “All my friends are boarders; they won’t hang out with me today.”
“You could learn.”
“My knee isn’t 100 percent. I’m pretty sure I’d only embarrass myself.” He grinned.
I took the hint. “Right. Thanks.” I wasn’t in the mood for banter. All I wanted was a hot drink and a long, warm bath for my backside. Positive there were bruises forming back there, I wiped off my pants and tried to walk as normally as I could with a board strapped to one foot, eyes on my destination. “Look, Micah, you don’t need to stay with me. I’m just going back to my room after this. I’m sure I’ll see you around at some point.”
“Wow, the old ‘see you around’ bit. Doesn’t sound like you’ve forgiven me for last night.”
A day’s worth of frustration had built up inside me, held back by a slim wall of self-control. But at his words, something inside me snapped, and I felt the wall crumble. “Why do you even care? You’re here for Sofia anyway. You don’t respect what I do. That’s fine. It truly does not bother me. But don’t go all heroic just because you feel guilty. We’re both adults here. So you go ski down the mountain, and I’ll ride down, and if we see each other sometime, we’ll be polite and calm and try to get through the weekend without insulting each other. Deal?”
Micah stared at me with a strange expression. I met his gaze with my last bit of determination until he finally shook his head.
“You don’t dance around things.” He pulled his sunglasses down. “Fair enough. Well, I’m not leaving you alone, so let’s talk about things that matter. Sofia told me about your fiancé.”
I groaned. “She didn’t.”
“Don’t be too mad. I had to drag it out of her. The truth is, I was engaged too. We broke it off last year.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was a mutual thing. I don’t think either of us were ready. It didn’t take her long to find a replacement, though. I found her kissing another guy two days later.”
“Ouch.” At least I’d never seen Rhett making out with another girl.
“Yeah.” He tucked his ski poles under one arm and removed his hat, revealing adorably messed up hair. He ran his hand through it and then slid the hat back on. “It wasn’t until later I realized the clues were there all along, but I didn’t see them. She loved old movies, and her favorite movie was Camelot. The really old black-and-white version. Every time we watched it together, I felt bad for the poor king who discovered his wife was having an affair. But no matter how many times we argued about it, she insisted the king was just holding his queen back from happiness.” He chuckled bitterly. “I know it’s a ridiculous thing to argue about, but I guess I’m a little sensitive to such things. It’s no fun being the guy left behind.”
It felt strange, hearing Micah talk like this. Like he was a normal person with feelings. It seemed he’d been through more than I’d assumed. “Chick flicks are awful. I don’t watch them anymore.”
“Don’t blame you there. I grew up with five sisters, so I’ve seen pretty much every girl movie ever made.”
“Really?” I tried unsuccessfully to hide a grin. “Impressive. You’ve probably seen more than I have.”
“You could call me an expert, really.” He tucked his ski poles under his arm again and pretended to crack his knuckles. “They’re all the same. The main character is beautiful and fit, the type other women hate in real life but relate to in movies. She meets The One—that guy who’s above men in general
and perfect in every way, usually rich, maybe a little naughty. Then she tames him, and he’s undyingly faithful to her from then on.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure that’s not every movie ever made.”
“It is if you think about it. The problem with chick flicks is life doesn’t produce perfect men, but real men.” He gave me a sideways glance. “Men who say stupid things when they’re attracted to a woman. Men who make mistakes.”
There it was—another half apology. Would it kill the guy to speak in first person? A simple “I’m sorry” would’ve been nice, and not in a text, either. I remembered his words from last night, so arrogant and pointed, and felt my face grow hot. “Let’s talk about man movies, then. The main character is an idiot, an everyday guy with lame problems nobody cares about. Yet somehow he manages to get this gorgeous girl with no personality except a complete and utter adoration for him.”
He cocked his head. “I suppose that’s Hollywood’s version of what all men want.”
His agreement nearly derailed my anger, but I fiercely clutched it to my heart. He’d embarrassed me to the core. He’d torn my book apart and flung the pieces like confetti. I owed him nothing. “Women have dreams and goals too—desires that shouldn’t be dissected and ridiculed in public by men who claim to have grown up.”
“I just said that was Hollywood’s version. I didn’t say it was mine.”
We had reached the ski lift now. I caught the gaze of the attendant, who didn’t seem surprised by my disheveled appearance. He nodded and motioned me forward, almost bored.
I shot Micah a look. “Thanks for the escort, but I can take it from here.” I positioned myself behind the line and allowed the bench to scoop me up. I grasped the bar and settled back, relieved to be off my feet.
Micah didn’t ski away. Instead, the lift bounced slightly. I looked back to see him sitting on the bench behind me. I gritted my teeth and faced forward again.
“You want to know what I really thought of your book?” he called out as the snowy slope began to drop away beneath us.
“Not really.” I’d heard enough of Micah’s opinions to last me years.
